The Steps I Took
by The Lime-Wielding Ninja
Summary: Tony and McGee meet accidentally in a bar and talk about their relationships with Ziva and Abby. TIVA and MCABBY! Song-fic, oneshot. I don't own. Liable to be re-redited a lot. Happy Valentines Day!


The Steps I Took

This particular bar was quiet on a Friday night. A change from where DiNozzo usually went, but that was what he wanted: he wanted change.  
McGee, however, wanted familiarity, and thus went to one of his usual haunts.

Neither of the men intended to meet the other there. They didn't even recognize each other as they sat down on similar stools.

"Guinness," they chorused. Only then did they look over at the other.

"Oh, hey," they said, again in unison.

An awkward silence was remade and kept for a few infinite seconds.

"Well, I don't want to bother you, so I'll just..." McGee trailed off.

"No, it's fine," Tony answered, staring down the fizz in his beer. "I need to tell _some_one."

The quiet radio sitting behind the bar began a new tune. The guitars were playing country, but without the extreme twang expected.

Tony sighed. "I asked Ziva what she thought about me." Tony rubbed his eyes before looking to see what McGee's reaction was. The computer expert had one eyebrow raised a little, but otherwise his face was expressionless. Tony continued. "I mean, like, really _thought_. At first she just ignored me. And that was okay, but I wanted to know what she...Anyway, she...um...she yelled at me." The corner of McGee's mouth twitched. "It was...really harsh."

_I don't like the steps I took to get to look into your deepest feelings._

_And I don't like the place I'm in head space within the hardwood and the ceiling_

_Cause if I'm restless then why do I, I want nothing but to rest my soul?_

_And I don't get this and I know why; you see sometimes things are just beyond control_

"There's nothing I can do about it, though," Tony went on. "I can't just pry open her head and look or anything."

McGee nodded. "I know."

Tony looked up. McGee still had very little expression on his face, but his hands were frozen, locked. Being someone who typed on a regular basis, Tim tended to keep his hands moving. "I know," McGee repeated in a whisper.

Tony swallowed more of his beer before asking "Is it about you and-"

"Abby?" Tim interrupted. "Yeah. You remember how at the end of that one case, there was a guy that was 'trying to protect' me from the characters in my new book?" Tony nodded. "Well, you know how I had to lie to him, tell him McGregor and Amy would get married at the end of the next book? Abby and I kind of had an argument about that..." McGee paused to sip his beer.

_Well I don't mind, but I'm not surprised to find that you do,_

_I'm not surprised to find that you do. I know you do._

_And I feel fine, but I know the same does not apply to you._

_I know the same does not apply to you._

_So I guess that I'll curl up and die, too._

"Are Abby and I really all wrong for each other?" McGee asked Tony. "Honestly, what do you think?"

Tony thought back a few years, back to when McGee and Abby were together. He remembered how they worked, how synchronized they were. They could type at the same keyboard, anticipating what the other would type. They had almost shared a brain sometimes. They had always been happy. Even after they weren't going out anymore, McGee would still have an idea of what Abby was thinking. Abby knew when McGee was upset, when he 'needed a hug'. "I don't think you're wrong at all for each other," Tony found himself saying. "You're just...different people. The beer's on me, by the way." Tony handed Tim a twenty. "Gotta dash."

Tim waved vaguely.

_Clinging to the remnants of perfection like most do after they break it_

_Not knowing which directions the correct one; do I discard or remake it?_

_cause if I don't know then I don't know, but I may know someone who knows me more than I_

_And if I somehow could rest this soul, maybe control can find its way back to my life._

And it was in that moment, listening to the lyrics, that Timothy McGee found that it didn't matter. It didn't matter if they were 'wrong for each other'. No one had to be perfect. Abby knew him better than anyone, including himself. He could almost read Abby like a book, but a book with layers. They weren't perfect for each other, but they were pretty much as close as it gets.

_And I don't mind, but I'm not surprised to find that you do._

_You see I know that I have done all this to you. To you._

_And I feel fine, but I know the same does not apply to you,_

_Yeah I know the same does not apply to you_

_So I guess that I'll curl up and die too._

Tony was driving home. He thought about what Ziva had yelled, and realized that he hadn't listened to what she was shouting, but how she shouted it. He'd gotten her to show a major kind of emotion. He had taken off her mask, even if it had been for just a minute.

When he got to his house, he didn't immediatly open the door of his car. He put his head on the steering wheel and sighed. No matter how beautiful Ziva was when she was mad, he still didn't want her to be mad.

Tony opened his bedroom door, only to come face to face with the subject of his musings.

"You were not answering your door, so I charged in," Ziva said, matter-of-factly.

"Barged," Tony corrected. He loved it when she got her euphemisms wrong. "Barged in." Well, more like he loved every part of her.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Ziva said "Well, I just wanted to say that I am sorry I yelled at you earlier today. I lied when I said I thought you were an arrogant womanizer."

Tony laughed a bit. "Then what do you really think?"

Ziva shifted her gaze to her shoes. "I...I..." she stuttered. She sighed exasperatedly, grabbed Tony's shirt by the lapels and kissed him. Tony was stunned, to say the least. This was something he hadn't really expected.

"And that," said Ziva, "is what I think of you."

_Yeah I'll curl up with you. Until I die with you._

_Yeah I'll curl up with you, until I die with you,_

_Yeah I'll curl up with you, until I die with you,_

Tim told himself he wasn't being weird. He told himself this several times as he walked to the elevator. Yes, it was late, but he was sure Abby would be here. And, as the elevator doors dinged and opened, McGee heard the familiar beats of Plastic Death. He couldn't help smiling as the glass sliding door opened and he found Abby asleep at the keyboard. Again. He stepped behind her, bent down and whispered "Caf-Pow."

Abby's head snapped up sooner than he expected, and hit him right on the nose. "Ow."

"Timmy, you brought me Caf-Pow! Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt you? Because I've got band-aids in the freezer-fridge thing, if you need them," Abby babbled.

"No, Abs, I'm fine," McGee assured the forensic specialist. "Really," he said when she opened her mouth again to talk. "It's just...Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course McGee," said Abby. "Fire away."

Tim took a deep breath, trying to relax more. "Why are we 'wrong'?"

Abby looked at McGee intensely and seriously. "McGee, look at yourself." He held eye-contact with her. "Do it! Do you need a mirror?"

"No," Tim denied. So he looked down. He was wearing fairly basic clothes, like he'd wear to work: the basic jacket, shirt, and pants. "There, happy?"

"No, Tim, I'm not done yet," Abby said. "And neither are you. Now, look at me."

Abby was wearing her hair in the style she didn't wear much anymore, a lot of small twists on top of her head. Her make up was the same as always: plenty. She wore her lab coat, plaid skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. And, of course, her platform boots. "You just look like Abby," Tim said.

"Yes, and that's the problem," Abby answered immediately. "A goth and a geek just don't go together."

McGee shook his head. "These two people, goth and geek...I think they could go together."

"How could they, Tim? How could they?"

"Because, if you think about it," McGee responded, "they aren't the true stereotypical example of their type."

Abby sat down in her swivel chair. She smiled, very slowly. "Maybe they aren't," her smile fell, "but what if they are, and then-"

Out of character, McGee felt the need to interrupt her. "Abby, are you afraid?"

She looked up at the man who couldn't possibly be with her. He wasn't asking the question in a way that seemed mean or rude. He simply wanted to know the answer. "No, I'm just...worried. I guess."

Before he could stop himself, Tim asked Abby why. It was entirely the wrong thing to say, he was sure of it. And in a way it was, because the next thing he knew, Abby was crying. She'd thrown herself on him and cried. "I'm sorry, Abby, I didn't think..." McGee trailed off, hugging her back.

"Don't apologize," Abby choked. "Sign of weakness."

The two stood for a while, not saying anything. Soon, Abby stopped crying, but she didn't let go of Tim. "I'm so stupid."

"No, you aren't," Tim contradicted. "You could never be stupid, even if you tried."

"No, Timmy, I'm stupid for being afraid," Abby stated.

He didn't know what to say to that. So he just said nothing at all.

"That means that I love you, McGee," Abby clarified.

* * *

_Yeah I'll curl up with you, my baby and my darling,_

_Until I die with you, yeah I'll curl up with you until I die with you._

* * *

**A/N: The song I used here was **Curl Up and Die** by Relient K. I only own the CD.**

**So, this isn't really done. It's a one-shot, but I want to modify it a bit.**

**And I know its past Valentine's Day, so this is late, too. But I hope you like it anyway.**

**And I'm sorry for any OOC-ness.**


End file.
